


Juniper and Ash

by waffle_Atronach



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Archery, Argis I don't think that mage was trying to make you furiously have sex with her with that spell, Bathtub Sex, Dwemer Ruins, F/M, Fluff, Light Racism, Markarth is a shithole but we make the best of it, Masterbation, Mutual Pining, Ohmes Khajiit, Porn With Plot, Post-Battle Sex, Secret Identity, Sexual Frustration, Soft sex, dragon - Freeform, eh I suck at tags but I'm trying goshdarnit!, fury spell, heat - Freeform, magic sex, oh where to start, vlindrel hall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 19:26:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19179865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waffle_Atronach/pseuds/waffle_Atronach
Summary: Combination prompt from kink meme.Ohmes Khajiit look more like Bosmer than any self-respecting Khajiit should, but that makes Kira perfect to go into the Nords' prejudiced cities and take orders and commissions ahead of the caravan. At least, until she becomes a more stationary agent in the city of Markarth, the most racist place since Windhelm. Now she's a homeowner, a Thane, and spending most of her time with a distractingly attractive Nord Housecarl that wants her to live up to her destiny as the Dragonborn.Maybe they'll get back to that when her heat is over. If she can just avoid him for a week instead of going over and plopping herself in his lap like the cat she secretly is.The plan works well enough until a mage tries to strike a pyric victory by hitting Argis with a Fury Spell and setting him on this Thane...





	Juniper and Ash

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompts
> 
> Secret F!Ohmes
> 
> So there's this Khajiit Moon-Form that looks like a slightly smaller Bosmer (smol!). They usually tattoo themselves with kitty patterns to differentiate, but I'd like one that didn't obviously do that acting as an agent for the caravans in the Skyrim cities. People think she's Bosmer, and she makes deals with people who, for whatever reason, don't want to be seen going down to deal with the Khajiit. The only problem? She's in heat, and can't let the non-Khajiit figure it out!
> 
> Yes: size, heat, multiple orgasms, happy endings in all ways, frustration, and angst  
> No: noncon, blood, sad endings
> 
> &
> 
> Fury Sex
> 
> The LDB and her follower have been dancing around their mutual attraction for a while now, but for whatever reason (thinks there's a power imbalance, just doesn't notice feelings, widowed, whatever) the LDB has always held back. Then they fight a mage together, and before going down/running off the magic-user hits the companion with a Fury spell and sets them on the LDB. Rather than trying to lop off their friend's head, the companion proceeds to have a lot of angry sex with them until the spell wears off.
> 
> Tags: Rough sex, magic sex, dubcon maybe?, animalistic behavior?  
> Squicks: blood and painful sex, bathroom stuff, angst afterwards (angst during is fine and encouraged, thx)
> 
> Bonus points for Argus, Vilkis, Teldrin, or Miraak

Kira leaned back and looked up at the doorway doubtfully. Stone, just like everything else. The heavy metal set inside it did little to brighten it on such a grim day. Dwarven metal didn’t rust or corrode, but it did dull over time, and the higher residents of Markarth liked to polish their doors to shine like jewels in the sun. This house must have been empty a long time.

 

Ri’saad was going to have kittens when he found out she had a house.

 

Doubtfully, Kira looked down at the hefty key in her hand. Iron, so it must have been remade at some point, and so massive it dwarfed both her hand and her elven dagger. Wrinkling her nose, she glanced over her shoulder to the Markarth walls that kept out the rest of her caravan. Stupid smooth-skins wouldn’t let Khajiit in, but Khajiit were nothing if not clever, and Kira did not look like the Khajiit these northerners were used to.

 

Personally, Kira thought the Nords should get out more. See more of the world than their glacier-wrapped home. Then again, perhaps that was the root of some of their distrust. After all, Elsweyr had fought for the Dominion.

 

Her gaze returned to the door. It was high, very high in the city, and a steep walk from anywhere. It was no wonder it had been empty so long. When Kira had overheard a guard gossiping that the Jarl was considering upping the prize for returning his murdering father’s shield from a simple fortune to a home within the walls, she’d told Ri’saad right away. She hadn’t thought he would want _her_ to be the homeowner! Was she not more useful being mobile, able to enter every city ahead of the caravan and take orders? Apparently, they had enough human contacts for that, now. Still, they had thought they’d get the abandoned property lower in the city, where people could slip in and out onto the main road easily. Up here, they would have to climb past guards, and it was easy to keep watch on it. It would be better, then, to make drops of goods lower in the city.

 

Still, Kira loved heights. And the home would give her somewhere to keep shipments, even if a quarter of them were contraband skooma. She loathed the stuff, hated selling it, but she didn’t control what people ordered. Like the Jarl and his godsforsaken shield. An entire Warren of homeless Reachmen and mine workers and he was just giving away an empty home to someone for a dented piece of armor.

 

Glancing back up at the doorway, she decided to Oblivion with it. If she didn’t want skooma in her house, she wasn’t selling it anymore.

 

A drop of rain hit her cheek, and she hurried to unlock the door before the promised deluge.

 

It was heavy.

 

Kira grunted, tugging at the thing. She knew the doors were weighty, but she’d never had this problem! The hinges must not have been oiled since the last owner! Pulling on the handle, hauling to no avail, she closed her eyes tight and gritted her teeth and pulled with all her might.

 

The door opened suddenly with a shriek of metal grinding on metal, and Kira fell on her backside, looking up in surprise into the neutral gaze of a large Nord man. Blonde, with one bad eye, wearing working gear and carrying a bag with steel armor peeking out of the opening. She blinked at him, then yelped as the sky opened up and poured a waterfall on them both. The moment was broken, and they both hastened inside.

 

“It’s dark as a pocket in here,” she muttered, looking away from where she could hear the Nord moving lest her glowing Nighteye give her away. She heard a flintstriker behind her and light bloomed from a torch. She grabbed the next and lit it with a small flames spell, then lit the others from that. Only when the front entrance was completely lit did she turn to examine the man.

 

“Oh,” she muttered, taking in the way the shirt was clinging to some very well-developed muscles. “Um…can I help you?” she asked awkwardly.

 

He glanced over at her, then away, clearing his throat with equal awkwardness. “Are you Thane Kira?” he asked.

 

“I suppose,” she wrinkled her nose. The caravans were going to laugh themselves sick when they heard _that_ little bit of information. Then again, she’d managed to keep the whole “killing a dragon and somehow eating it” thing from them, so maybe she could manage with this, as well. Thane of two Holds, and technically not allowed to enter the cities of either, it was ironic in the extreme.

 

“You suppose?” he echoed doubtfully, glancing at her again briefly.

 

She shrugged. She still couldn’t believe the jarl had given her a title as well as the house. An honorary one, but she still thought he could afford to extend some of that generosity to the people living in poverty in his own city. “I guess titles are something you grow into,” she replied, rubbing her arms and shivering, then abruptly realizing her shirt was probably just as see-through as his at the moment, and her nipples were clearly visible with chill. Crossing her arms over her chest hastily, she hurried into the main hall and shot a stream of fire onto the remains of wood in the fireplace. “You wouldn’t happen to have some fresh firewood in that pack, would you?” she asked.

 

“I was supposed to get here before you,” he stated, swinging the bag—easily big enough to carry her around in—off his shoulder and placing more logs on the fire. “This place hasn’t been cleaned or aired in a decade.”

 

Kira stared. “Isn’t that my job?”

 

He arched an eyebrow at her. “You’re my Thane,” he stated, as if that explained everything.

 

Heat bloomed inside her at that. _“Your_ Thane?” she stressed, hoping for some sort of clarification. “’Your’ as in, a citizen of the Reach, or…”

 

“I’m your Housecarl,” he elaborated, “My name is Argis. They call me The Bulwark.”

 

“Because nothing can fit past your shoulders?” she blurted, trying to process and failing spectacularly.

 

A surprised bark of laughter burst out of him, and she flushed. “My superior once said that nothing gets passed me, like a bulwark,” he elucidated, “After that, the name just stuck.”

 

“So, Housecarl…you protect my stuff?” she hazarded, trying to remember what that poor woman in Whiterun had told her before she’d fled the Cloud District, vowing never to return.

 

“And you,” he said, eyeing her up and down, “I wasn’t sure how much you’d need it, after getting through a fort full of Foresworn, but…” he stopped, perhaps realizing he might be offending her. She could see what he was thinking, though; she was a small little thing that couldn’t even open her front door.

 

“Archer,” she explained the unanswered question. She didn’t go into any more details than that, such as teaming up with a deposed Hagraven and keeping completely out of sight.

 

“So you didn’t face any of them directly?” he surmised, surprising her.

 

“I’m a hunter. If I don’t need to put myself in danger, I don’t,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest for a completely different reason, irked.

 

He nodded, rose, and started lighting the gas lamps along the wall, turning the nozzle at the bottom to make the flame larger or smaller. She watched with interest. Accidents where someone had a lamp nozzle open but not lit were talked about for decades in Markarth. Even Kira had heard them. If the homeowner didn’t close the nozzle and vent the place before trying to light it again, the smallest spark could ignite the whole home, shaking the cliffs themselves. That in mind, she rose, going over to watch what he was doing.

 

Argis glanced at her, then did a double-take, his brow furrowed as if he’d seen something that puzzled him. “So you’re Bosmer, then?” he asked casually.

 

“Why do you ask? Do I ask if you are a Nord?” she quirked her lips in annoyance. Her heart beat a bit faster: Did he somehow know of Ohmes Khajiit? He didn’t look old enough to have fought in the Great War, but he might have had a father or older sibling come home with stories.

 

“This is Markarth. Everyone wants to know if you’re part Reachman anymore,” he spat, disgust and something like bitterness in his voice. Rather than disdain for the minority, Kira was relieved to sense it was from the attitude. That was good. Last thing she needed was a “Skyrim is for the Nords!” type hanging about.

 

“I’m not part Reachman, if that is what you are asking,” she ran a rag she found over a strip of metal adorning the wall, removing a layer of grime. She was starting to suspect this place was the scene of one of those infamous lamp accidents.

 

“I wasn’t. I am, though, before you ask,” he said curtly.

 

She blinked. She hadn’t expected that. So he was expecting her to look down on him? His shoulders were tense, as if he wanted to get the revelation over with. “That’s nice,” she managed, unable to formulate any other response.

 

He looked at her a long moment, then went back to what he was doing. There was a weighty, awkward lull in conversation while they cleaned.

 

“You’re dark,” he finally noted.

 

“Noticed that, did you?” she drawled.

 

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Argis said quietly.

 

“You didn’t,” she replied. On the contrary, the conversation was giving her a lot of insight into Argis. He’d faced discrimination here because of his Reachman heritage, even though he looked full Nord. Well, the Reachmen themselves were an ancient mix of Nord and Breton, though the land war over the Reach, both in Skyrim and High Rock, was long standing. Argis was simply wondering if she was mixed race as he was, and wasn’t sure how to broach the question. She found herself biting her lip, holding back the assurance that she knew how being judged like that felt.

 

“People are a lot more mixed in Cyrodiil, where I was born,” she stated. “That’s why the census lists someone as their mother’s race; it’s not always as clearly defined as it is up here in Skyrim.” Kira left it at that, though the explanation was so lacking she felt like a liar.

 

After a moment, he called her over to explain the next lamp, and watched as she did the one in her new room herself. There was a relaxation about him there hadn’t been before, and she found herself smiling a lot at his observations. They surveyed the house, taking in the dust, soot, and cobwebs that needed removed. The bedrooms to either side sported the stone beds of the Dwemer, and Argis visibly sagged in relief when she suggested one of the first things he get was decent bedding. The beds were perfectly serviceable as low tables, or they could simply place thick mattresses atop the bases.

 

“Why are you so relieved?” Kira wiped soot off her hands and gave him a curious look.

 

The pause put her on alert. “I hate sleeping on stone,” he revealed.

 

“Why would you need to worry about—wait, you mean you’re _LIVING_ here?” she yelped.

 

“I’m supposed to…” he trailed off doubtfully, as if expecting her to order him to sleep on the doorstep or something, like a guard dog.

 

Well, she was going to have a lot of merchandise in here. It could use a guard, as long as he didn’t get too curious about the contents. Kira nibbled her lip nervously. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that,” she admitted.

 

“I’m here to serve and protect you, my Thane,” he said, standing straight and looking at her earnestly, “I won’t overstep myself.”

 

“I…uh, um,” she felt her cheeks grow warm and turn wine-red with a flush. “Sorry, I’m just…we’ll see how this goes?”

 

A small grin quirked up one side of his mouth, and her stomach jumped. Well, that was a tangle she didn’t need. Whirling away, she cleared her throat and returned to cleaning.

 

It was a long, busy day. They cleared the front rooms in amiable silence, until the rain finally slackened and Argis went to get that bedding. Kira went to the inn and brought back dinner for two, and bread and cheese for breakfast the next morning. They ate, set up their beds, and fell into weary sleep. Kira woke before him, padding over to look him over again, a little dismayed to find he was just as handsome as she’d thought the day before. Grumbling inwardly, she slipped out the door (which she was now able to open unaided, thanks to a generous slathering of dwarven oil on the protesting hinges) and down to Ri’saad’s encampment.

 

The Khajiit were packing up, scheduled to head to the next city. They never stayed camped outside one for too long. For one, it made the turnover of goods faster. For another, they never overstayed what little welcome they received.

 

“Kira,” Ri’saad greeted her warmly. “This one has been away longer than usual.”

 

“This one got herself into an interesting situation,” she sighed, then explained about the shield, the Jarl, Vlindrel Hall, and her new Nord vassal.

 

Ri’saad’s tail lashed in amusement and anticipation. “This Bulwark may prove troublesome. The city is filled with bolt holes and tunnels, though. Kira will have to be clever and find some new ones that are close to her new home.”

 

She thought about that. “This one shall inform Ri’saad when she’s established,” she said, then attempted to purchase a wall tapestry she’d admired since a Redguard had traded it for some rods of fine blue glass. Ri’saad insisted she take it as a housewarming present, making her flush with pleasure and a bit of guilt. She was supposed to be helping them make money, not taking things for free.

 

Returning to Vlindrel Hall, she checked on Argis, who really looked too cute and vulnerable when he was asleep. Pausing, Kira’s cheeks heated as she realized she’d just thought of a hulking Nord warrior as being “cute and vulnerable.” Wanting to lick a trail up his abs was one thing, finding him endearing was a whole other beast entirely, and she really ought to get her head out of the midden before she spent the time he was sleeping fantasizing about him.

 

Stowing the tapestry in the cleaned area with the rest of their things, she glanced at the back wall. Pressing her ear to the cold rock, she rapped her knuckles against it. Just stone, like everything else. How the Dwemer were able to stand living in holes like rats—very nicely appointed holes, but still holes—had always baffled her. She was thinking of it as a den for her own peace of mind, but every good den had a second exit, if she could find a place to install one. And perhaps an air shaft or twelve, she shuddered, eying the chimney and wondering whether making it one or leaving it for warmth was the better option. The fireplace there was dark, filled with soot, and she looked around the gloom and decided light back here was no bad thing. Scraping out the bottom, she discovered the chimney blocked and, with another sigh, shimmied on up to see if she could at least figure out what was blocking it.

 

A bit of light shone through, and she stared at it a moment, then hauled herself to it hopefully. There was a hole of crumbled stone in the back of the chimney, letting through to a dark space. Tentatively, she sniffed, but detected nothing worse than underground air. Muffled sounds echoed up from her feet, a soft, uncertain call proving Argis was up and wondering where she’d gone.

 

“Hey, Argis,” she called, “What’s behind here?”

 

“Where are you?” he asked, flummoxed.

 

“In here,” she dropped down out of the back chimney and blinked guilelessly at him. “What? It needed to be cleaned too.”

 

“And now you do, too,” he commented archly.

 

Kira shrugged. “So, what’s behind the house?”

 

“If it’s not solid, probably another Dwemer dwelling,” he said, looking intrigued she’d asked.

 

“It’s not solid, there’s a hole up there and space behind. Before we move in too much furniture, perhaps we could…expand?” she suggested, grinning. If she had a tail, it would have been twitching.

 

He shook his head, a slight smile on his face, and Kira had the feeling he thought he had her figured now. “You’re greedy, my Thane. We don’t know where that goes.”

 

“Best if we expand the hole enough for me to get through then, hm?” she said, going to grab a discarded iron dagger she’d seen and picking at the mortar between the bricks with it. She could hear Argis rummaging around inside the house, the rush of a broom over stone as he tore the cobwebs from the ceiling. Having a tall person around was handy, after all.

 

The stone gave way all at once, dropping her into a dark room filled with dust and Dwemer artifacts. Her grin at that find faded instantly with the familiar ticking of a Spider automata approaching. Kira screamed, falling back and swinging with the dull dagger, wishing she had her weapons, her armor, anything.

 

“Kira!” she heard, muffled from the other side of the wall.

 

Kira jumped back from the Spider, falling over the remains of some long-gone Dwarf’s dinnerware, scattered across the floor. The Spider ticked right over, and she kicked at it, crying out when the thing gouged her leg with one of its pincers. She swiped at it, grabbing the articulated arm and swinging it around and away, wishing she had the strong claws of other Moon Forms, but she’d had to file hers down to fit in in the cities.

 

The wall shuddered, bits falling into the room as something heavy hit the other side at the weakened point in the fireplace. Her Housecarl was trying to beat his way through the wall to help, she realized with some incredulity. Help wasn’t coming, however. Argis was too big. She only had herself.

 

A second Spider fell out of a nearby pipe, and Kira panicked.

 

 _“FUS!”_ she screamed, and both Spiders went sailing back into the stone, crashing against it, then vanishing under the rubble as it collapsed on them.

 

Argis stood in the gap, frozen with surprise, a warhammer lifted to strike the stone that was no longer there. Lowering it slowly, he took in the room, the Spiders’ limbs poking out of the rubble, and her dust-and-soot-covered self standing opposite of him. “You’re the Dragonborn?” he finally managed.

 

Kira stared at him a moment before bursting into tears.

 

 🐾 🐾 🐾

 

“Then the dragon died, and its scales caught fire,” she mumbled, watching Argis’ strong hands bandage the gash on her leg. “There was a lot of wind, and suddenly I was glowing and everyone was looking at me like I’d done something extraordinary. I didn’t do anything the guards weren’t doing! I just shot at the thing and tried not to die. That’s it!”

 

“Sounds like you’re meant to be more than just a hunter,” Argis commented, tying the last of the bandage in a knot over her gash, the pressure making her wince.

 

“Maybe, but world-saving-hero is a bit beyond me, I think. What am I supposed to do, sneak up on the dragons and shoot them up the tail?”

 

A burst of laughter escaped him, making her glare. “You’ll need some practice,” was all he said, very diplomatically, she thought.

 

“Nirn is doomed,” she stated, hiding her face.

 

“We’ll work on it,” he promised, and she paused, peeking out from between her fingers. Argis patted her leg and went back to cleaning, leaving Kira sitting there, thinking over his words with mixed giddiness and dread.

 

 🐾 🐾 🐾

 

With the new finds from the extended section to fund it, the renovation went quickly. One of the first things Argis had done was to jam the pipe the Spiders had come out of—something apparently every Markarth citizen knew to do and hadn’t thought to show her—and she quickly shut all the others, sneaking through the new corridor at night when her Housecarl was asleep so she didn’t alert any mechanical guardians. With her bow and the element of surprise, she was able to take care of them before they even noticed she was there.

 

The gods were smiling on her, for the addition was several rooms backing hers and a hallway beyond. One end was caved in, but the other lead out to the side of the cliffs somewhere. Kira resolved to explore until she found some landmarks, pleased that she now had a way to sneak goods into the city. The doorway to the hall had a lock, which she duplicated a key for with wax, then brought to Ri’saad after she’d had a few forged. Argis was none the wiser, working out some sort of rain cistern to fill the large dwarven metal basin they’d found and decided made a better bath than the original stone one, which was always cold. She told him the door was jammed, and put the tapestry in front of it, making it her study.

 

Argis made good on his word, teaching her the basics of swordwork with embarrassing slowness. Kira didn’t like being swung at, and they very quickly abandoned shields in favor of dodging. She was quick as any Khajiit born, which seemed to impress her Housecarl. She found she liked sparing against him, pitting her mind and skills against his. There were moments, though, she swore almost turned into something else. When he corrected her stance once and his arms were on either side of hers, the heat of his chest at her back, and she looked up into his face above hers. Another where he had given her a lesson in grabbing whatever weapon was nearest, and did his best to keep her away from any of them, and they’d ended tangled on the floor. The memory of that one had stayed with her for nights, but each time he’d pull away, and she’d let him, confused and a bit frightened at the prospect of attempting anything more.

 

The month until the caravans returned passed, then passed again, and Kira found herself falling into a routine, taking commissions and delivering goods to and from the caravan. Eventually, being stationary got boring, even with the renovation, then house decorating. Kira began taking commissions herself, inspired by that first trip for the jarl. She went out hunting snowy sabre cats for their fur, finding particular gems or ten jars of troll fat or other odds and ends. Always, Argis went with her, calling attention to himself so she could snipe from the shadows. He insisted upon it, and more and more, Kira enjoyed his company, sometimes an embarrassing amount. Sometimes she started to tell him something about herself, her life, only to stop and remember that he didn’t know, he couldn’t know. He might have acted like her friend up until this point, but he was still a Nord, with their deep-seated distrust of foreigners in general and the Dominion in particular. The thought never failed to depress her.

 

“You should get better armor.”

 

Kira jerked out of her troubling thoughts, glancing at him in surprise. They’d just cleared out a bandit nest—bandits, not Foresworn, which she felt odd about fighting after seeing the state of Markarth—and were hauling back the truly impressive amount of goods they’d recovered. She looked down at the simple armor she wore—a leather top with one iron paldron, and riveted skirting. “What’s wrong with it?”

 

“It’s too thin,” he shook his head.

 

“I need to be able to move quietly, Argis,” she rolled her eyes, then reached up and lifted the short tuffs of her thick, dark hair away from her neck. “Besides, anything heavier in this weather and I’ll roast. They said it was a bit warmer in the Reach, no one mentioned how Daedra-damned _humid_ it is!”

 

“What about chainmail?” he said abruptly. “There are ways to reduce the clink, and a chain shirt would protect you a lot better than that leather. Linen tunic under it, and leather jacket over, and you’ll turn knives and light arrows at least.”

 

“Silk,” she said, surprising him. “It breaths just as well as linen, but arrows can’t pierce it.”

 

“How does silk stop an arrow?” he demanded, amazed.

 

“It doesn’t, but the arrow doesn’t go through it, either. It can be used to draw the arrow out of the wound without more damage,” she revealed, rather liking his gaze on her. Sweat glistened down her hickory-brown skin, making her acutely aware of the juniper-laden breeze. Still, she was stifling, and she put down her burden to fan herself a moment, wondering if there was a part of the river shallow enough to take a cold dip in nearby.

 

Argis halted, frowning and staring at her in concern. “Are you alright, my Thane?” he asked, and she tingled at the word “my” in a way she hadn’t since first hearing it.

 

“Of course,” she replied, feeling breathless for some reason, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“You look, well, flushed, I suppose,” he said, walking over. Kira abruptly remembered just how big he was, how broad, and she felt her cheeks heating further with his proximity, though he kept the respectful distance he normally observed until suddenly his fingers were on her cheek, setting off nerve endings with just the feel of the back of his knuckles, then his palm on her forehead. “You feel feverish.”

 

She blinked. No she…oh. Oh no. Quickly, Kira counted the Moons since her last heat cycle. It had been a little over a year. Thirteen Moons had passed all too quickly.

 

Stumbling back from Argis, she gave a small, nervous laugh. The caravan had just left. There would be no visiting the women to get herbs to ease it, or helpful male to assist her through it. Best she treat it like a fever then. “I guess I’ve just been overworking,” she lied. “I’ll take it easy for a few days until it goes away,” she promised.

 

He nodded, still looking concerned, which was awfully sweet of him, and hefted her bag as well as his own. Her mouth watered at the easy strength of him, lingering on the curve of his bicep between his shoulder guards and bracers, then the line of his jaw below his ear, the pulse thrumming against his skin. “I’ll take care of this, if you want to sort out anything to keep,” he assured her. “Why don’t we just get home and you can take a bath and lie down?”

 

“That sounds wonderful,” she sighed honestly. A nice, cold bath would help.

 

 🐾 🐾 🐾

 

A nice, cold bath did not help. Kira almost thought it made it worse. She was more grateful than ever for the addition onto Vlindrel Hall, where she could shut her heavy, thick metal door and keep her far too attractive, far too human Housecarl from seeing her writhe uncomfortably on her bed, hear her moans as she finally gave in and tried to ease herself, even knowing it would do no good.

 

Kira bit her pillow, fingers working furiously over her clit, other hand fisting in the sheets beside her head. The air in her room, usually cool, felt sweltering, her sweat not helping cool her in the least. She rolled onto her back, panting and staring at the ceiling, thinking of inappropriate and probably unhealthy thoughts about anything nearby that was even approaching the right shape. Her entire body shook with need, making her breasts tremble and sending sparks through her nipples. Moaning in defeat, she laid still, trying to get some rest, at least.

 

She would not think about Argis, right there in the next room, with his hard muscles and soft smiles. Kira closed her eyes tightly, and her mind provided her with an image of him coming out of the bath, glistening with water and smelling fresh and clean, hard erection jutting upward toward her as he—

 

A knock at her door sent her heart thumping even wilder. She couldn’t face Argis like this, she simply couldn’t. The man had proven observant enough to realize it wasn’t a fever if she allowed him around her for more than a few minutes at a time, and that worried look on his face over the last afternoon had her tingling in more ways than she’d admit even to herself. Panicking, she rolled a fur over herself despite the instant discomfort, and quieted her breathing, facing away from the doorway.

 

Argis opened the door when she didn’t answer, and she could feel his gaze on her like a caress, or perhaps it was just the slight draft following him through the doorway. He moved softly, for him, to her bedside, reaching over and feeling her face again. She barely suppressed a twitch at the action. She imagined him frowning in the same concern he’d shown all day, the lamplight catching in his good blue eye, glimmering off his blind one. A surprised mewing sound escaped her when his hand grazed down her shoulder, and he froze, then continued on when she didn’t “wake,” taking a damp cloth and wiping some of the sweat from her neck and back, following the line of her spine until stopping abruptly.

 

Dread settled in Kira’s heart. Ohmes had a right of passage most Khajiit didn’t. They tattooed themselves with cat marks to look more like their brethren. It distinguished them from their Bosmeri neighbors in the southern settlements. Kira was different only in that she’d forgone the markings on her face, but she’d felt left out, so she had four tigerstripes branded across her lower back, the longest just over the swell of her hips and reaching around to the arch of her hipbones, the shortest a mere V above the swell of her rear. The lighting in the room wasn’t good: If he got only a glance at the top one, he might assume it was a scar.

 

Without further thought, Kira rolled onto her back, keeping her face looking toward the opposite wall in case she couldn’t hide her expression. The rasp of the furs against her skin had her suppressing a whimper, her nipples hardening painfully with the light touch. Argis inhaled sharply, then gently covered her breasts back up with the fur, and dried the sweat from her upper chest, neck, and forehead before leaving just as quietly as he’d come.

 

Kira spent the next hour staring into the darkness, wondering at the strange feeling in her chest where her heat had never affected her before.

 

 🐾 🐾 🐾

 

Generally speaking, heat only affected a Khajiit for around three to five days. On the sixth, with no sign of easing, Kira was ready to ride just about anything, and if her Housecarl kept caring for her in that quiet, concerned way of his, it was going to end up being him. He’d made her food, fetched health and cure potions from the apothecary, drew her baths, and twice more bathed her while she was “sleeping,” which tested her worse than the dragon, she thought.

 

Finally, she heard him leave the house, presumably to get something from that far-too-pretty Muiri, and she tossed aside the furs and hazily stumbled into her armor, the least restricting clothing she had. If she was lucky, she could catch the caravan going up to Solitude. She could get some help, one way or another. She had to admit that at this point she wasn’t making the best decisions, her brain absolutely clouded by lust that had turned to pain days before. She could smell it in her rooms, and the first thing she did was dump her furs in the laundry, then make her way to the back passage. In no way, shape, or form was she going to face the citizens of Markarth while in the worst heat of her life. The guards were already corrupt. She wasn’t eager to find out if they were corrupt and…She shuddered, stomach lurching at the thought even while her womb spasmed. It didn’t care who eased her, but her mind and heart did. Her mind settled for someone she could trust, who wouldn’t expect anything of her afterwards. Her heart…her heart had its own, confused arguments that consisted mostly of short barks of laughter and concerned frowns.

 

The day was bright and clear, but a haze hung over her vision. Kira was lost before she knew it, stumbling around blindly until she finally collapsed on a rock, gasping at the pressure against her labia and flopping backwards before she could start grinding down on it.

 

The sky was very blue. Like Argis’ eye, she thought, then chuckled deprecatingly at herself. Maybe, after her heat was over, she’d be able to deny it was more than attraction, but right then, with all her mental strength going toward resisting her own body, she just couldn’t muster up the will.

 

Something bright and burning hot shot over her chest, and she blinked, then sat up abruptly, staring at the mage shooting fireballs at people just minding their own business, laying about on rocks.

 

Thank Dibella it was a woman, and thank whichever god made her she wasn’t attracted to those, as well.

 

This particular human was Imperial, she thought, under the skull painted over her face. She had dark brown hair and a black robe with a green skull on it, matching the facepaint. A necromancer, then. An angry one. Kira lumbered to her feet as the necromancer yelled something that sounded vaguely threatening through the roaring of her own blood in her ears.

 

Kira held up both hands in surrender. “I’m going, I’m going,” she assured the woman.

 

The necromancer scowled at her and started forward. That’s when the dragon showed up.

 

Kira hadn’t actually faced a dragon since the Watchtower Incident in Whiterun. She really, really wasn’t keen to do so now, especially with her reflexes dulled and her senses in a riot. Still, she managed to throw herself out of the way of the blast of fire the thing shot at her, rolling down the rocky hillside and finally feeling something besides aching pleasure. She had never welcomed bruises more.

 

The dragon wheeled around above them, coming down next to the necromancer and blasting fire, taking out the four skeletons she’d raised with ease as she hid behind a pillar. Dragons never being ones for staying grounded too long, it took off and flew around some more, screaming.

 

Absently, Kira wondered if she really was a dragon inside after all, because screaming in abject frustration seemed like a pretty good idea. A charred arm bone somehow still clutching an ancient sword rolled down the hill toward her, and she picked it up, the few lessons in Not Dying she’d had clawing up from the mirk of her memory, though she really wanted to linger on the part where Argis was half on top of her, pinning her to the floor.

 

The dragon landed behind her, and she turned, glaring at it.

 

Adrenaline surged through her, the heat actually working for her, for once, now that her heart was pumping blood to something other than her loins. The massive maw opened to spout fire, and she moved to the side, rushing forward and grabbing a horn.

 

“I. Have. Had. The. _WORST_. Week. And. You. Are. _NOT HELPING!”_ she screamed at it, holding on with sheer determination and beating it about the head to punctuate each word.

 

The dragon made a surprised bellow and shook her off, sending her falling into the arms of someone she hadn’t even noticed come up. She looked up in surprise, up the broad chest her back was against, his thick arms under hers, his eyes glaring down at her. “Hello Argis.” Waving her hand absently around them, she slurred, “Fresh air!”

 

“If you weren’t my Thane I’d be threatening to spank you for doing this to yourself,” he muttered, putting her on her feet and handing her the bow she’d left in her room, like an idiot, attaching the quiver of arrows to her waist as she melted into the arms around her.

 

“Oh, that sounds nice,” she said, then realized she’d said it with his startled look.

 

The necromancer saved her by choosing that moment to decorate the back of Argis’ breastplate with a frost spell.

 

“Best get it together enough to shoot at the dragon, my Thane,” he prompted her, putting her on her feet and leaving her swaying without his support.

 

Glaring up at the dragon coming back in, she grumbled, “I really don’t like you,” and knocked an arrow to her bow, sighting along it toward the wheeling form. The dragon dipped, then started to descend, mouth opening to roar something undoubtedly elemental at her. Kira was having none of it. Time slowed as she released the shaft, sending the arrow speeding off through the dragon’s eye socket and into its (she imagined) infinitesimal brain. She blinked as it fell, toppling like a dropped falcon from the sky to the mountain beside her, making the cliffside rumble. “That was easy,” she remarked. “What a pushover!”

 

Argis yelling in pain brought her back to herself. She turned to see him pull a shard of ice from his arm, then rush at the frantic mage, who summoned a red ball of evil-looking magic and fired it at him with one hand, another wave of ice with the other. The ice whirled him around even as the red spell hit him, and realization hit Kira with the dragon’s soul.

 

A Fury spell. The mage was turning Argis on her.

 

Her arrow flew too late to stop the spell, ripping right through the necromancer’s throat. She was down before she had time to heal, and Kira was backing frantically away from her Housecarl, praying the spell would die with the mage.

 

Rage glimmered in his eye as he stalked toward her, red light coursing over him. Kira’s legs hit the dragon’s skull and she buckled, scrambling up the flat bone and watching him toss his warhammer aside. He reached out and batted her hands away as she tried to keep him from reaching for her neck, but instead his arm went around her, his other hand reaching down and Kira squeaked, then melted as his fingers slipped easily inside her, his arm vanishing beneath her armor. Gaping up into his eyes, unable to comprehend, she moaned as his arm tightened around her, crushing her against his armor.

 

“I knew it,” he hissed, and she froze.

 

Half formed, panicked thoughts fled as he started moving his fingers at a furious pace, slipping a third one in and watching her writhe and moan with the same wordless glare he’d stomped over with. She would have been worried if she were capable of it at the moment, but it was all she could do to bend backwards over his arm and squirm, her hands clutching at his shoulders and her legs moving restlessly as his fingers continued to churn in and out of her. They were broad and a bit rough with callouses, stretching her and rasping over her nerve endings perfectly. Her hips drove herself hard onto his hand, and he moaned, falling forward and pinning her down, face hidden in her neck and lips leaving a dark bruise.

 

“Argis…” she whimpered. “Please…”

 

He cursed, pulling away from her, and she sobbed, needing him so badly she would rather die than have him walk away from her now.

 

There was brief jingle of metal and the slide of leather, then he was between her thighs, falling into her welcoming arms and capturing her lips just as he thrust inside her. Kira yelped into his mouth, trying to adjust to his size even as she wriggled around him, forcing more of him into her. His moan at her actions lit her on fire. Wrapping her legs and arms around him, she jerked his hips to hers, loving the stretch of her flesh around his, at every ridge and vein she could feel pulsing inside her. His armor felt cold against the sweat-dampened skin of her thighs, her chest where he ripped open the leather of her top to latch his lips around her nipple.

 

Kira keened, arching upward to push the sensitive peak further into his mouth, her fingers tangling into his hair. All her senses were filled with him, with the tug of his lips on her nipple, the taste salt on his skin, the scent of musk and mountain air, juniper and ash, and the wet, steady staccato of his hips slapping against hers every time he overfilled her, the pleasure-pain of it drawing her out far longer than she would have expected to last.

 

“Ar-Argis,” she gasped, grabbing onto the dragon horns that were all that were keeping her from sliding upward with each surge of his hips.

 

He pushed away from her, letting cool air in between the steel of his armor and her naked chest, still glaring down at her but with something else in his gaze as she gasped, not bothering to conceal her pleasure and wanting it to go on forever. One hand slid from her shoulder to her breast, squeezing it softly and rubbing his fingers to the tip, giving it a sharp pinch before rolling it between thumb and forefinger. Kira sobbed, arching into his touch again, feeling his other hand at her waist, thumb brushing over the crest of her hipbone. Abruptly his hand was around her neck, and a hint of panic went through her until he pulled her up, swallowing her moans and gasps with his lips. The new angle changed the caress and pressure of every inward stroke. He was still too big, filling her too well, and she saw stars gathering in her vision.

 

Their bodies moved together, chasing the ecstasy they could feel building, their pace increasingly desperate as the minutes wore on, nails scratching and teeth nipping, until Kira tensed like a bowstring and released, blood singing in her veins as her orgasm pounded through her. She wanted to scream with it, but couldn’t draw enough air. She shuddered, her inner walls fluttering repeatedly around his pistoning cock. Argis’ needy moan rumbled over her skin, his armor hot now as he pressed her back down and slammed his cock into her madly, sending her right up over the edge again, until she finally started to come down and he groaned, flooding her with pulses of heat that sent another, milder wave of pleasure through her.

 

Spots danced before her eyes, her limbs going limp as the heat started to recede to something much more bearable. Kira was exhausted. Her legs and arms wouldn’t move, and they weakly slipped from around her Housecarl as the red light faded from him, and he lay atop her a long moment, silent.

 

His weight easing from her suddenly allowed a rush of air to fill her lungs. Her head spun, ears roaring, and she distantly heard his voice as she fell immediately into exhausted stupor.

 

“Oh, gods. Kira…”

 

It’s alright, she wanted to say, but her lips were numb and wouldn’t move. She felt him gather her to him, holding her for a long moment before leaving her long enough to fasten his armor, then put hers to some semblance of right, and lift her into his arms. That was nice. She could stay there forever.

 

The journey back to Markarth was spotty, at best. Kira thought she might have dozed most of the way. Argis had apparently found her secret exit, for he used it to get in. She felt the still air of the hallway, with its hint of dust and nickel-corundum tang of metal—more tasted on the tongue than anything—then the warmth of Vlindrel Hall, the scents of soot and bread and juniper wine. The soft feeling of furs beneath her lulled her to true sleep for a while, then a new, all-encompassing warmth, and the gentle glide of a cloth over her skin.

 

Kira managed to pry her eyes open to discover she was in a hot bath up to her shoulders, being bathed by her anguished looking Housecarl. He was in a fresh shirt that clearly showed a series of hickies and bites along his neck, eliciting a momentary pang of jealousy for whoever got to place them there. She shifted, a spike of pleasure shooting up through her stomach to where the soft cloth slid over her shoulder. Her eyes dropped to it, watching the pink, circular mark vanish under it uncomprehendingly as her brain struggled to work. Memory rushed in like a blow to the gut, and she stared at him dully, not knowing what to say but wanting to cry and beg him not to leave her for deceiving him, for deceiving everyone.

 

“I’m so sorry, Kira,” he said, his own voice tight.

 

“What?” she mouthed, then licked her lips and managed the word properly.

 

Argis stared into her eyes and words came pouring out of him, stumbling over each other. Kira listened incredulously. He’d started to suspect she worked with the caravans shortly after meeting her. He’d known all about the entrance, but once he discovered she wasn’t some sort of skooma dealer helping keep the Reachmen in poverty, he’d let it lie. He was amazed that she was the Dragonborn, and he’d wanted so much to show her that she was up for it, if she could only see in herself what he did. She astonished him on a daily basis with her cleverness, her ease at picking up trades from the townspeople. He’d wondered if she were part Khajiit after seeing the marks, and had asked around about such things—discreetly of course, he hastily added when her eyes widened in alarm—and discovered there were Khajiit that looked like elves. People made nasty comments about Khajiit being more like cats than they let on, of course, but he’d never believed them until her fever that simply couldn’t be cured, at how she carefully avoided him once it had started, at the moans that echoed from her room and kept him awake and aroused in bed at night.

 

“I was terrified when I came back and you were gone,” he told her miserably. He’d stopped being able to look her in the eye halfway through his confession, and now kept his eyes firmly fixed on the floor at the end of the tub. “I thought you’d stumbled out in a daze, or perhaps had gone to find a Khajiit to help you. I was worried, and, and I was jealous. It’s none of my business, I know, but the thought of you…sating yourself with someone else makes me sick. I never would have used your, uh, condition to sway you that way, though!” he burst out, looking pale and guilty. “I never wanted to hurt you, Kira. I wanted…But then that mage, that spell. I don’t know what came over me. I just saw you and knew you’d been holding yourself back, letting yourself be in agony for almost a week and…” he sagged, defeat in every line of him. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Kira felt tears pricking her eyes, looking at him. She swallowed. “I’m not.”

 

Argis’ head jerked up, staring at her like he couldn’t believe his ears.

 

“I’ve liked you for a long while, I just couldn’t let myself admit it because if you felt the same way about Khajiit as most other people, it would have hurt too much. That was probably stupid, with how you feel about Reachmen, but sympathy with one minority doesn’t always mean you’ll feel it with another. What if you thought all Khajiit were skooma dealers and thieves? What if you didn’t think that, but mentioned it to someone that did? I’d probably be thrown in Cidhna Mine and blamed for every crime in the city since I set foot in it!”

 

Taking in his unchanged, astonished expression, Kira smiled softly. “I care about you, Argis. I was just frightened, but here you were worried about me!”

 

Hesitantly, his hand unclenched from the edge of the tub, and he brushed his thumb over her cheek, hovering over her skin a moment to see if she’d draw away. Kira kept on smiling, sliding toward him and kissing his wrist.

 

“Argis…” she gave him a sultry, slightly bashful look through her lashes, “It’s eased a lot, but I’m still in heat. Would you help?”

 

He was out of his clothing so fast his shirt ripped. Kira laughed, bubbles and water splashing upward and flashing in the gaslight as he joined her in the tub. Pushing him back, Kira straddled his thighs, sliding her fingers into his hair as he looked up at her as if she were Dibella Herself. Kissing him fiercely, she glided her slit over the head of his cock, then slid down, taking him with a mingled moan from each of them. They went slowly this time, exploring each other. Kira finally ran her fingertips, then lips, over the defined muscles she’d admired since that first moment after the rainstorm, reveling in the glisten of firelight along the ridges and the texture of goosebumps her touch brought, despite the heat of the water. Argis skimmed his palms up her sides, then hefted her breasts, thumbing the nipples and grazing his lips over her collarbone, the column of her neck, over her pointed ears.

 

Sighing happily, moving his hands to her rolling hips, she wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled into his eyes as she rode him, picking up the pace as his hands tightened on her. Water started sloshing over the edges of the tub, the echoes of her cries reaching the outer rooms before he pulled her down to him, surging upward into her with a groaning kiss. Kira came as he did, sparks blazing across her vision, her body still softly squeezing him when they came down. He lifted his hand to her cheek again, and she smiled, then beamed when he kissed her forehead and rested his own against it.

 

“This isn’t going to go away with the heat, is it?” he asked, a note of worry in his tone.

 

She shook her head. “I wanted you before this, I just needed the kick in the butt to admit it.”

 

His smile lit up her world. “I never got the chance to remake your bed,” he admitted. “Would mine suffice for tonight?”

 

“Only if you’re in it, too,” she replied.

 

 🐾 🐾 🐾

 

Kira woke briefly when Argis slipped out of bed, listening in puzzlement as he rummaged around in his side table. He returned quickly enough, and she snuggled back in as if she’d never awoken. When his breathing steadied, she opened one glowing eye to see what he’d done.

 

The glimmer of a circular amulet on his chest caught the dim light. Unable to stop smiling, Kira stretched up to lay a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Yes,” she told him. She’d tell him again in the morning. Settling back in, she traced one finger around the outside of the Amulet of Mara, listening to her lover’s heartbeat until she fell back into a sleep filled with nothing but good dreams.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If any of you have tag suggestions on any of my work, I'd deeply appreciate them. I'm so bad at tagging! Hope you liked it! ♡ ♡ ♡


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